


The Shamrock of the Sea

by TheWindsOfStyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, F/M, Niall Horan & Harry Styles Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24080560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWindsOfStyles/pseuds/TheWindsOfStyles
Summary: Niall is the only son of a wealthy Irish family in 1897. He sails to New York to negotiate a business on behalf of his father. But The Shamrock has a different fate for him in mind.
Relationships: Harry Styles & Original Female Character(s), Niall Horan/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Short Fiction - a couple chapters only]

24th July 1897

“Lily. For you, again.”

Her colleague had panted, throwing the umpteenth letter on her bed. She swiftly lifted up, sitting on the slender, uncomfortable mattress. Her fingers unfolded that paper, slightly wrinkly and rough. The words gathered in the middle of the page, written in a neat, clean handwriting. She noticed how the letters slightly leaned towards the right angle: the author of those verses had to have been lefthanded, she figured. 

“One more? Jesus, it’s the sixth in five days.” Sarah remarked, absentmindedly tying the back of her apron. 

“I know! Lily, are you sure you don’t know who sent them?” Selene asked with hands on her hips, squinting her eyes. Sarah darted at her, then turned around rolling her eyes. She did not like the questioning tone she always put out. And anyway, she was the last person in the position of questioning her colleagues, especially after Sarah had caught her sneaking out of his cabin. She twitched nervously at the mere thought.   
Iolanda, however, failed to catch the jealousy displayed in the eyes of her best friend, still too caught up in her own thoughts to even care.

“I told you both, and a million times: I have no idea. I don’t know who sent them. Maybe…maybe it’s just a mistake.” She tried to convince herself, getting up and rubbing her palms on the wrinkly surface of her work uniform. 

“Or maybe it’s a secret admirer.” Sarah winked at her with a silly face, “A secret admirer who is also a poet. Wait, maybe he is rich! Maybe it’s Lord Styles!” she battled her eyelashes, looking up with a dreamy face, before curling her lips and darting her eyes towards her friend, tapping her foot. “Are you fucking Lord Styles? You’d better not, or I’ll-”

Lily let out a puffed laugh, placing her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. She adjusted her long, silky hair, shaking her head. “I am not doing anything with Lord Styles. First off, he is way too out of our league, and second, I could never do this to you.”

They both tried to look serious but burst out in a loud laugh.   
Selena looked at them from afar, hands still on her hips. 

“Shut up, you are going to get us all in trouble. We’d better get to work.”

Sarah rolled her eyes again, sneaking out of her friend’s hug to follow the other girl outside.   
“Yes, miss. But seriously, Lily, try to find out who this secret admirer is. Maybe one of the musicians?” she hinted.  
“I think we are setting out hopes too high. For what we knew, it could be some kind of joke.”  
She lowered her eyes, looking at the words inked on the paper one last time.

“You, that's what I've been missing  
Was tangled up and twisted  
Now all the clouds been lifted  
Lately, my heart's been so empty.”

Her heart still beat in the hope that it would be no joke.

\-------------------------------------------------

Dublin, 14th July 1897

HORAN, NIALL JAMES.  
The name was inked on that yellowish piece of paper. He read it one last time, then raised his blue, wide eyes. Niall was still amazed at that monumental, imponent structure in front of him. His gaze run on the long, majestic right broadside of the ship. Not far away from him, the long cue on the third-class passenger’s footbridge disgorged in a chaotic mass of unhealthy-looking and dirty men, women and children, gathering upon each other, pushing and shouting phrases in Gaelic.   
“Come on, son, let’s move forward.”  
His father grabbed his arm, dragging him around, in the that multitude of souls, looking for some sort of salvation on that ship. “The Shamrock of The Sea”, they had called it, in the hope that it would cast the light of good luck upon those travelling on it to the new world. Niall had heard many times his father ramble about how he knew the lord who had funded the construction of the Shamrock, but he had never paid much attention to that. He had never been fond of business and funding, and he had a relative interest in the world of major buyers and sellers. He knew, though, that the trip to America would be a lifechanging path for him, and he was grateful that his father had put enough expectations on him to give him the opportunity to go and negotiate a business on his behalf. New York was waiting for him, and he was excited. Yet, much as he loved his hometown and his country, he wished he didn’t have to come back to Ireland.   
“Are you sure you’re ready for this, my baby? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”  
His mother stopped to wipe a few tears away from her cheeks. She hadn’t stopped crying ever since they had left Mullingar a few days before. Niall found it sweet and heart-breaking at the same time. Mr. Horan senior asked two of their servants to load his son’s trunk and all his belonging up on board. The boy cupped his mother’s cheeks, looking at Maura with a half-smile.  
“I’m alright, ma. I’ll do what I have to do and…I’ll be right back to you sooner that you think. Stop crying for me, will ya, ma?”  
The lady smiled through her whimpers and nodded. He held her close in one last, long hug.

18th July 1897

Niall had spent the first few days wandering around, exploring all the salons, hallways and decks he had access to. Of course, travelling as a first-class passenger had its advantages. Nobody would pay much attention to him wandering around every part of the ship. He liked to look at the other people around him though. He fancied reading and collecting the multitude of emotions displayed on everyone’s face. Most of the passengers were rich, wealthy people, happy to be there, excited about their new adventure and all the comforts that would accompany them to the new world. He could recognize them. Not only by the clear expensiveness of their clothing and shiny jewels, but also because they wore proud smiles on their lips. The men often gathered around the counter of the bar for a sip of whiskey, or they would play cards, setting their bets higher and higher each time. Niall liked to play bets with himself, too. For example, he enjoyed betting on who would have lost at least half of their fortune before even getting to America. One of his favourites to bet on was Lord Styles. He was rich, extremely rich, apparently. And he would walk around the salons with a proud smile on his lips and, very often, more than one woman behind him. He had heard stories about him: he was, apparently, the most coveted bachelor of the whole Cheshire county. And nobody knew why. Niall liked to take the piss out of him, and he didn’t like him very much.  
Sometimes, he liked to wander along the lower decks of the ship, and once he had even reached the stern, where the third-class passengers where hoarded. In was different, down there. Hidden in their cheap cabins, mother would try to soften the cry of their many children, shrieking out of fear and hunger. Some young men would whimper, facing the parapet running along the back deck, looking back and thinking about the mother and lovers they had left behind. Niall wondered which storied they carried along. He wanted to ask, sometimes. But he knew the wound of leaving their motherland behind was still too fresh, and scars were still wide open and too delicate.  
His trip from Mullingar to Dublin had been long and exhausting, and over the past few nights he still hadn’t been able to adjust to his new bed, losing more sleep than he should have. His sunken eyes and his slightly unshaved face made him look older than he actually was, and he knew he needed some rest. After all, it would be a long trip to New York, and most of the times he preferred staying up at night to write or play his beloved fiddle. So, after lunch he found his way through the decks and staircases, to the cabin 402. He let his gaze travel up to the golden number on the black wooden door, then opened it, still holding the case of his fiddle in one hand. He rarely left it behind and found some kind of comfort in carrying it around with him.   
The girl in the room flinched, then turned around as the key clicked in the lock. Niall stepped in, and there she was. She had dark, brown hair, which were thin and shiny. He couldn’t see her eyes, tough. He put his fiddle on the freshly made bed, furrowing his thick, ash-blond eyebrows as he slowly walked towards her.  
“Good afternoon, Sir. My apologies, I was just bringing fresh towels for you.”  
She performed a quick, small bow in front of him. Then, she left with a fleeting glance. Niall noticed how her big brown eyes had rested upon his face for a little longer, before she stormed out of the cabin. He felt his throat go dry for a couple seconds, standing like frozen on the spot. He was normally not an impulsive man, usually very calm and thoughtful. But there was no hesitation in his steps, which led him out of that cabin, after grabbing the pile of white towels she had just left inside. His deep, blue irises squinted, looking around the corridor till he spotted her.   
“Excuse me?” he called.  
The brown-eyed girl turned around in his direction, still holding one hand on the handle of the wooden trolley she was pushing around on the mahogany wooden floor.  
Niall straightened his back as he walked towards her in long strides. There they were face to face again. Now he could see. She looked younger than him, a couple years maybe, he guessed. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she carried no ring on her left hand.   
“Yes, sir?” she patiently said, bringing Niall back to reality. She was staring at him, now. He had wide, deep, baby-blue eyes. His hair, she thought, resembled a dense honeypot, fluffy and perfectly combed. His cheeks were slightly puffy, making him look younger than he actually was, in contrast with the shallow shade of beard. He had thin lips, and a lovely dimple rested beneath his chin.  
“Aye, I…I need to have my towels changed.” He demanded. Then mentally cursed himself.  
She furrowed her brows in confusion, taking one step back.  
“My apologies, Sir, but I brought laundry-fresh ones no more than one minute ago.”  
Niall tapped his foot on the floor, following an irregular rhythm.   
“I know, I saw you. I just don’t think they are clean and fresh enough.” He stated, handling her the pile of cloths.   
She slightly parted her lips, but bit her tongue right after, taking a new pile from the trolley.  
“As you command, sir.” She answered, handing the fresher towels to the man, never breaking eye contact, till she once again bowed before him and went back her own way.  
“Many thanks, miss…”  
His eyes were quick enough to shoot a glance at the silver name badge on her chest. He stood there, watching her walk away, holding the new towels in his right hand, before heading back to cabin number 402. He locked the door, frantically opening his large, black trunk, searching for ink and paper. Niall sat on the floor, writing her name on that page. Lily.


	2. Chapter 2

21st July 1897

Niall’s pale skin looked even lighter in the dim light of the sun washing the upper deck of the Shamrock. His elbows comfortably rested on the wooden handrail adorning the parapet. His wide, snowy hands held his cheeks as he silently contemplated the skyline melting in the waves on the horizon. It was all peaceful, and he loved looking down, focusing on how the waves’ foam crashed on the pointy metal of the bow. He found that image therapeutic and soothing. A week had already gone by, and he hadn’t been able to take his mind off of her brown eyes. Sometimes he met her in the hallways of the cabin area, while she performed her working shift. When she had a day off, she would often sit in the timid sunbeams of the upper deck, and he would look her from afar, trying not to look like a creep. 

Niall had lived with the regret of acting like a snobbish, upper-class jerk when he had first met her. Hadn’t he done that, maybe she would have looked at him differently. He was aware that she was acting professional in keeping her composure and distance from him. But even as distant as their worlds were, in the eyes of other people, he felt drawn to her. He wondered if someone else had ever felt that way, he wondered if there was someone on that ship who could understand his feeling. But he guessed for no, as he turned around, letting a chill, pleasant sea breeze run through his hair. He let his eyes wander around, scanning through the many groups of upper-class people chatting, drinking and walking back and forth on the bow deck. Niall had always been quiet and observing, his eyes attentive, enlightened by curiosity and respect. 

Not far away from him, Lord Styles stood. A glass of whiskey in his right hand, full of rings, and a dark, elegant suit wrapped around his thin body. He engaged a conversation with some minor earl, a certain William Payne. But Niall could see how absentmindedly he nodded, while placing a hand on a woman’s hip, looking in the opposite direction. Niall followed the line of his eyes, trailing to a spot on the opposite side of the deck, where one of the maids stood, speaking to a waiter. Niall died to know what he was thinking of, looking at that girl. He had seen Lord Styles many times in the restaurant, always walking through tables, entertaining his numerous guests. He was a proper show off, and Niall wondered what a British lord was doing on an Irish ship heading to America. A kid with worn out clothes and brown flat cap, clearly oversize, toddled towards the British Lord, slightly pulling the side of his trousers, trying to get his attention. Lord Styles looked down on him, as the kid said something that Niall was unable to decode. Then, the lord picked out a coin from his pocket, handing it to the kid, before trailing away with his hand wrapped around a young woman’s waist. Niall raised an eyebrow. Then, he burst into laugh as he watched the kid from afar. In his small hand, in fact, he held triumphantly not only a coin, but Lord Styles’ pocket watch as well. The Irishman found it funny how easily that arrogant son of a bitch had been fooled by a little thief. 

As he still watched him holding an amused smile on his lips, an idea flickered in his mind. He paced towards the kid, who was running back to the stairs on the opposite side of the deck. Niall cleared his throat behind him. The little boy turned around, running his eyes from the tip of his polished shoes up to his dark green trousers, to his white shirt and his jacket, till he met his baby-blue eyes. 

“Hello” Niall greeted. 

The kid widened his eyes, not sure about what to do or say. Then, he turned around and went for the stairs. Niall was quick enough to grab the back of loose, worn out jacket, with a bemused smile painted on his thin lips.

“Oi, calm down, lil’ man. I don’t want to arrest you or anything like that.”

The kid twisted his lips, looking at him with a furrow, as he knelt down to reach his height.   
“Do you understand English? Gaelic?”

“Both.” He answered.

Niall nodded and started to speak in the language of his motherland.

“Ceart go leor.” He started “I saw you pick-pocketing lord Styles’ watch. He wouldn’t be happy about that.”

The kid bit on his lip.   
“I don’t want to tell him about this, lad. But I need you to do something for me.”

“I don’t want to kill him.” The kid said, causing Niall to laugh again, shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to kill him, nor anyone else. I need you to find the cabin of one of the maids.”

“You want to hurt them? I don’t want to hurt them. I like them, they treat me nice.”

That sentence made Niall’s heart tighten a little. Oh, the things those young eyes had to had witnessed… He frantically put his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, taking out a small pack of folded paper.

“No, no my friend. I don’t want to hurt this lady. I need you to make me a favour. I need you to bring these letters to her, sometimes.”

“Can’t you do it yourself?” the kid argued, crossing his arms on his chest. Niall sighed, gently putting his hands on his shoulders.

“I can’t. And you surely know the hallways of this ship better than me. Can you help me?”

The kid’s greenish eyes went up for a moment, his finger on his mouth.  
“What’s my reward?” his tiny foot tapped on the wood.  
Niall smirked, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll keep you little secret safe from the scary Lord Styles.”

The boy sighed, then nodded, extending his hand to him.  
“Deal. What’s the name of the lady?”

“Lily. Lily is her name.” Niall smiled, handing the papers to him.

28th July 1897

Niall was asleep, safe and sound in his bed, wrapped in the comfortable midst of a dream. A dream in which he was free, a dream in which he was nothing more and nothing less than what he wanted to be. When he felt it. His bed had been shook by a swift, ponderous spasm, and he had opened his eyes suddenly, jumping up, sitting between the white linen sheets. He looked around, with widened eyes, quickly rubbing his face and eyelids to focus his room, still washed by nothing more than the darkness and the moonbeams. His inkpot had fallen on the floor, spilling on it, and several other objects were stranded around the room. He quickly got up, putting on a pair of trousers and a shirt, before storming out of the cabin. Many other rooms were sprung open, as people gathered around the hallways and on the decks. He wasn’t the only one who had been woken up by that loud, metallic noise and his bed twitching like in the middle of an earthquake. Niall run up on the bow deck, finding an agitated crowd of only partially awake people, gathering on the side of the ship to look down. Some of them drew back at the sight. Some of them flicked, others fell on their knees, screaming implorations to the mighty lord. Others, again, run convulsively in different directions. Niall tried to get as close as he could, elbowing in the crowd. And then he saw it. Another ship, as gigantic as the Shamrock stood not too far away. There had been a collision. Only that, the Shamrock was taking on water at the same height of the boilers room. It was only a matter of hours, and she Shamrock would sink down, to the bottom of the cold, dark ocean beneath them.  
Niall was petrified for a while. Every shriek, booming, every tap of heels became a distant noise. His heart started racing in his chest, and he stared blankly, unable to react for a while. Till his mind only run towards one thought. It was like a call-back to his awareness, and he rushed at lightning speed towards his cabin. He rumbled around, wrapping his fiddle case under his arm and a jacket to shield his body from the pinching air of the Atlantic Ocean.   
He stormed out of that cabin, leaving all his belongings behind, rushing through the corridors to get to the bow of the ship to reach the third-class area. As he went down, the outer appearance of the corridors, walls and cabins became cheaper, just like the smell floating around. Niall stepped down the metal staircase, which led to the lowest floor of the cabins, where all the staff accommodated. His foot reached the last step, and he felt it. The floor was damp, and water had already started flooding that area. The collision had been deep, and everything was happening quicker than he had imagined. There was no time to waste.   
He run down the hallway, bumping into men, women and crying children running in the opposite direction.  
“Kenneth! Kenneth!”  
Niall spotted him on the other side from him, breathing quickly as he tried to climb on the ladder hanging on the wall. The man raced in his direction, elbowing his was to the kid, who kicked around, trying to escape the flood. Niall reached him and lifted him up, rubbing away a few tears from his chubby cheeks, and holding him tight to try and calm him down.  
“It’s alright, lil man, it’s alright. We’re good.”  
“I am scared sir Niall.” He cried on his shoulder, tightly grabbing his arm as if he was scared the man would let him go.  
“I know, I know, man, but we’ll be fine. We are getting away from here but listen.” He begged the child, placing his hand on his cheek. “You need to bring me to her, will ya?” He asked, breathing quicker than before.   
“Room 139” Kenneth whispered.  
Niall just run. He run towards that door as if it was the last thing he would do, carrying the kid along, in his arms. Once they got there, Kenneth slid down, through his arms, landing on the flooding floor. His little hands hammered on the door steadily.   
“Lily! Sarah! Open the door, he is here, he can help, open please!”  
The door sprung open. They were both there, with a pale face and watery, red eyes. Lily knelt down a little, speaking in a reassuring tone. She acted as if the man behind Kenneth was invisible.  
“Ken, what are you doing here? You should be going upstairs!”  
“But he is here! He can help!”  
“Who? Who is here, Ken?”  
“The poetry man, it’s Niall, he will help!” The kid spoke convulsively, shaking the maid’s hands as he looked behind. Iolanda froze on the spot, and her gaze finally travelled up, to his blue eyes staring back at her.   
“I know I was an idiot when we first met” he murmured with shaky hands in an apologetic tone “but you have to trust me. Come with me, please.” His Irish accent was thicker when he was nervous.   
“It was you…” she couldn’t believe it.   
She had wanted to let the disguise of her secret admirer fall. She had built castles in her head, thinking about who it might be. But never had she thought…  
“Yes, yes it was me, indeed. But it’s not the right time and place now. Lily, we are sinking. I need to get us all out of here. I have a plan, but you have to come with me, now.”   
He grabbed her wrist with urgency, and she noticed how cold his hand was. 

“I can’t sir. I am sorry.”  
He felt as if his heartbeat had stopped. He looked her in the eyes, gulping down a lamp in his throat. Kenneth wined as the water went higher, almost reaching their knees.   
“Wha…what are you talking about? We are going down, Lily. You have to come with me!”  
“I can’t!” she almost screamed, freeing herself from his grip.  
“But why?!” his eyes hid a silent prayer to her, desperate and deep.  
“Niall, Niall, please…” Kenneth cried, grabbing his jacket.  
“I can’t leave Sarah behind. I’m sorry, I am grateful to you Niall, but-”  
“She is coming away.”  
Sarah appeared behind her, intruding their conversation. Lily turned to her and snapped.  
“Are you insane?! I am not leaving you here, there is no way!”  
“If we both stay here, we are going to die. We need to get away from here, you idiot!”  
“I am not leaving you behind, you’re my family.” Lily stated, shaking her head, then taking her friend’s hand into hers, then gazing at Niall. “I’m coming if she is coming along.”  
Niall held a breath, then released a sigh, stuttering.  
“I…Lily, I can’t…It can only work if it’s just us, I’m…I’m sorry…”  
He felt mortified. But he was afraid that bringing alone one more person would screw up his plan and burn all their chances.   
“She is coming, sir.” Sarah stated firmly, pushing her friend away, right in the Irishman’s arms. Niall was quick enough to grab her before she fell on the ground, and looked at her in the eyes, then gazed at Sarah. She stood there, with watery eyes and a look of resignation on her face, nodding. Niall quietly thanked her, as he picked Kenneth up, holding the girl in front of him.  
“No! Sarah! I’m not going!”  
“Run, you idiots!” she screamed back, as Niall tried to pull her along the hallway.   
“Sarah” he turned back, talking out loud to make sure his words would reach her above the noise “Sarah, run up to deck twelve! We…we’ll figure something out! Run!”

Niall led the three of them to the third-class floor. There, many cabins stood abandoned: the order had been to leave everything behind and run to the lifeboats deck. He knew how that would go. First class first. He found it unreasonable, but Niall was sure that many wealthy people would strongly disagree with him. He bet Lord Styles had already dragged his rich ass up on a lifeboat with one of his escorts.   
He kicked the door of one of the rooms, pushing them inside. He locked the door behind him and threw himself on the wooden closet in the corner. He sprung it open, pulling out a blue dress, tossing it on the girl behind him. He looked her in the eyes and urged,  
“Put it on, quickly.”  
“Lily took the dress on her arm, looking at Niall.  
“Sir, I…”  
“Call me Niall” he cut her off, “and please, do as I said.” He begged her, holding Kenneth’s hand and his fiddle case under his arm. He could still read uncertainty and discomfort in her eyes, as she looked down.   
She realized he was shaking when his right hand gently grabbed her chin, lifting her face up, causing their eyes to finally collide. He came one step closer, and now she could feel the heath of his breath on her lips.  
“Should we die tonight, my lady, I want you to know I fell for you the moment I laid my eyes on you. And my biggest regret will always be keeping this love a secret, and not having spent enough time with you in this life.”  
She bit on her bottom lip, and then parted his mouth to breath out.   
“Niall…”  
“Hush…” he placed one finger on her lips, “we don’t need no other words.” He whispered, wrapping her flushed cheek in his white palm. He leaned closer, finally placing his lips upon her in a long, delicate kiss. She closed her eyes and let her hand slide through his fluffy hair, pulling him closer to her. Niall thought it was enough to die in a state of grace.   
“Eww…” Kenneth had a disgusted expression on his face. Niall opened his eyes, detaching from her lips and letting a nervous laugh out. Lily blushed and smiled at the kid, still in a dreamy state.  
“Sorry, Ken.”   
“Yeah, whatever, can we move on now?”   
They both laughed again, then nodded.  
“The little lad’s right, we need to be quick. Put the dress on.” He demanded again, as they parted from each other. He stood there, tapping his foot on the floor. Lily looked down at the dress, then up at him, raising her eyebrows.  
“What?” he asked, opening his arms.   
She scratched the back of her head and stuttered  
“Well…could you…please… turn around?”  
Niall widened his blue eyes and nodded nervously, giving her his back as he apologized.   
“Oh, yeah, uhm…sorry.”

“Horan, Niall James, Baron of Mullingar.”  
He said with urgency to the cadet standing next to the lifeboat, which was about to be stranded in the black ocean. The man skimmed through the list he held in his hands. The night was cold, and a chill wind blew upon them, causing Lily to squeeze I her shoulders, as she stood behind the Irishman. The dress was a little loose for her, but even through chaos and fear, Niall had reminded her how beautiful she looked.  
“Yes, here it is. You can hop on, sir.”  
“Cheers.” Niall thanked him, turning around to take Kenneth between his arms and Lily by the hand. “Come, love.” He whispered to her, heading for the boat.   
But the cadet intruded between them.   
“I am sorry, sir. But it is you only.”  
Niall took a deep breath, staring at him with clenching fists.  
“What does this mean? It’s my wife and my son.”  
“There is no name next to yours on the list.” He stated coldly and firmly.  
“Is this a joke?” Niall burst out. He should have known. But now it was all too far gone to stop: he was one step away from saving them, and he was not going to stop. Lily squeezed his hand, as if to call for his attention. Everybody around theme was staring at him, but he couldn’t care less.  
“Do I look like someone who is joking, sir? As I said, my apologies, but I can’t let them through it their names are not on the list.”  
Niall clenched his jaw, then threw himself upon him, hitting his face with a fist.  
“Oh lord!” Lily covered her mouth with one hand, as blood started rushing from the cadet’s lip, down on his white uniform. The man gnashed his teeth. His hand went back to his pocket, and in a matter of seconds, a gun was placed upon Niall’s forehead.  
“No! Niall, please!” She cried, as Kenneth shrieked, trying to reach for Niall, in the amazement of the many other passengers around.   
“Tell our little doll and your dirty kid to back off, or I’ll shoot a hole into your head.”  
Niall’s body was shook by a nervous twitch and cold chills, as he parted his lips.  
“Let her and the kid on. I’ll stay.” He demanded. The man clenched his jaw, then grinned.  
“Are you deaf? Only the names on the list, orders from the captain. Now, you chose if you want to hop on or rotten on the bottom of the ocean. Do it quickly, or I’ll make the decision for you, and-”

“What is happening here?”  
His voce was raspy, low and calm, loaded with a thick, pleasant British accent. Niall hadn’t even seen him coming. As if he had come out of the blue, he stood there, behind the cadet with a loaded gun pointing at the back of his head.

“Lord Styles!” Niall uttered his name in a mixture of beg and surprise.

“This man, milord…He is slowing our deboarding process. He is trying to sneak in people who are not on the list, and-”

“And, what, Jeffrey?” The young cadet asked himself how this Lord happened to know his name. “Put that gun down, and let them in.” He ordered in a calm whisper, which gave chills to many of those present. His green eyes scanned the entire crowd around them, slowly landing from one face to another.   
The cadet lowered his gun, and Niall released a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. 

“My Lord, I…I am sorry, but the captain said we have to follow the list and deboard first-class passengers first.”

Lord Styles’ eyes squinted. His lip twitched, and he spoke calmly, but in tone that allowed no talkbacks.   
“Do you know who I am? I fucking own this bloody ship, and I don’t give a damn about the orders from your captain, nor about your list. You are going to get as many people as possible on these bloody boats, regardless their sex, age or class. Is it clear enough?”

The boy nodded frantically, gulping down and saying  
“Yes, Lord Styled, milord.”

“Good.” The nobleman nodded, lowering his gun. His eyes darted towards Niall, who couldn’t help but notice how elegant he looked, wearing a black smoking, even in the middle of the night, on a sinking ship. His gaze travelled to the woman and the kid behind him. Then, all he did was nod.  
Niall, Lily and Kenneth stepped quietly onto the boat, and sat down before it started being lowered down. Niall took a moment to lift his gaze up to him.

“Lord Styles.” He called. The man lowered his emerald eyes. “Thank you.” Niall murmured, slightly lifting his cap, holding Kenneth and his fiddle case on his knees.   
“My duty, Sir Horan.”  
Niall didn’t even bother to wonder how he knew his name. Lily, sitting next to him, looked up, begging him out loud.  
“Lord Styles! Lord Styles! My friend is still up there. She is a maid too, Sarah! Sarah is her name!”  
She screamed loud, through the tears, as the lifeboat touched the waves. Niall held her close to his chest, gently kissing her forehead, as he whispered.  
“I’m sorry my love…But I don’t think he can hear you.”  
Up above, on the deck, among the agitated crowd, Lord Styles stood still, looking around with teared up eyes and a furrowed face. He gulped down, taking a deep breath as he grabbed the cadet’s arm.

“What is the name she was screaming?” he asked.

“Sarah, it was Sarah, my lord.” 

“Sarah” he refrained out loud, looking at the first lifeboats gain distance in the chill of that tragic night. “Find her.”


End file.
